


tangled (in your memory)

by miraphora



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Dad!Cassian, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Kid Fic, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, it's appropriate that i'm moving this from tumblr to ao3 on father's day, rebelcaptain prompt, sad feels, space latinx, tangled prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraphora/pseuds/miraphora
Summary: “What’s that you have there, pequeña?”





	tangled (in your memory)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a sad little moment between Cassian and his daughter.

“What’s that you have there, pequeña?”

Cassian set an absent-minded hand on his daughter’s small, sloping shoulder as she leaned against his legs. Her soft, tuneless humming teased a smile from the corner of his mouth, and he set the datapad down on the tabletop, turning his full attention to her.

Her small hands were cupped together, a mess of cord and coiled chain and dangling glinting bits of flash twined around her chubby fingers. “Está roto, papá.”

“Están rotos,” he corrected, gently, his eyes caught on the shimmer of light through a clear crystal dangling along her tiny wrist.

He reached out with a deceptively steady hand, curling his fingers beneath the crystal, feeling its eerie, living warmth soak into his skin. Remembered the feel of its curved point dragging along his chest, when it still hung around the neck of its owner, when he could still pretend that its feral warmth was _her_ warmth. When he had begun to believe in the Force again, if only because it had brought him into her strange, chaotic orbit.

A quick spasm of emotion worked across his face, his lips twisting. Alma went still against his legs, her fingers curling protectively over her treasure.

“Sorry, mija. Sorry.” He ran his fingers through her soft, dark hair, gently stroking it back from her hazel eyes with their soft mossy ring in the center. He swallowed hard against the knot of emotion in his throat, reached down to boost her up into his lap.

She was watching his face, lower lip protruding with uncertainty. “Arreglar, papá?”

He snuggled her close, not sure if he was reassuring her or himself, and gently unwound the cords and chains from her fingers. “They’re not broken, mija. They’re only tangled.”

**Author's Note:**

> esta/n roto/s: (it/they’re broken)
> 
> pequena: little one
> 
> mija: conjunction of mi hija (my daughter)
> 
> arreglar: to fix


End file.
